Behind Closed Curtains
by LiPop
Summary: A sickly renowned death of his past ancestor. Brick is determined to break the curse that comes in his family name. He wasn't expecting this, though. Full Sum Inside.
1. A Thin Line Of Existence

**Full summary:** "The Utonium name come and go. Having been such a dark mysterious family labeled by the neighborhood. No one seemed to know the truth, not even someone who inherited their blood. It was all up to Brick, with the help of 5 other people living in the past, who was just as curious as he was. They started from the very bottom, where it all came, the ominous murder of the first Utonium child ever been born, Blossom."

 **Warning:** Rated T for obvious violence and maybe swearing. No romance, sorry PPGxRRB lovers, I'm intending on making this a murder mystery without any relationship whatsoever, some only for the sake of empty plots. Make sure to leave out an opinion, it's really helpful if you do.

* * *

It was located on the darkest part of the neighborhood, where only people with shady background lives. He didn't mind, although, his parents seemed very eager to find a new suitable place for them to live in.

His mother, Mrs. Jojo was standing right besides him; holding an identical box he currently wielded in both of his grasp. Her mouth held on to a frown, drawing out all of the negative thoughts she has in mind.

"Looks like we're stuck here." He swiped his head towards the all too familiar accent and found his father, Mojo closing in behind them. Frigid yet calm, his steps weren't generally used to that. He joined them on their gaze and let out a mocking sneer.

"Why in the world should we live in this dump? Look at it! I bet it's stashed with dirt and layers of dust," he complained with a spiteful tone lacing his voice. It didn't took a genius to know that he disapprove to the idea of residing the rotting brick of a mansion. "And look at the neighbor! This is clearly not a supporting environment for students Brick's age!"

Mrs. Jojo mouthed a disappointed sigh. "Don't be so harsh, Mojo," she retorted with the nicest voice she could ever find. "It's a family tradition. You should be happy to inherit such luxury, not many people have such luck." She sounded sincere, yet Brick couldn't help to note at the sly edge.

"Where do you want this boxes, mister Jojo?" One of the workers they hired asked to the tall bearded man, one of the many traits he dislikes from his father. He lightly whistles as his mothers eyes shifted to him.

"How about it Brick? What do you think of this house?" He merely shrugged. Besides how murky it looks from the outside, Brick never did care about decorations. Neither living in a five-star apartment or a creepy haunted mansion, in which this house in some term are.

There aren't much exterior either, besides some oak trees and bushes. Oh, and that broken fountain, there's nothing else but tall grass waiting to be mowed.

The wall was covered with moss and the black paint almost gone throughout ages, showing out the red molding inner brick. There was even a big splodge on the far end of the wall, like a huge impact came and was made unsuspecting. Lucky enough for them, the last residence left the window and the notable gigantic double door untouched despite having dust covering every part of it.

Brick wonders how long has it been since the last people living here. Millennia sounded a bit too far off.

"I don't care." He replied in his usual blunt attitude. His mother gave him a small wholehearted grin before turning her head to come face to face with her husband.

"Dear, do you think they'll allow us to redecorate?" The black haired man ordered the workers around before he set his eyes towards his wife's blue astonishing pairs of light irises with his own dark blazing red one.

"My great grandfather aren't against replacing some broken stuff," Brick took a glance towards one of the mansion's many windows and saw his reflections as his father went on. "But he prohibited us to touch any family related thing, meaning their own private objects that was left in the house," his shoulder-length auburn hair was tied to a low ponytail. The strand was sticking out all over the places, especially the one that he tucked under his signature red backward cap. "We were only allowed to clean it every once in a while."

"Brick?" It seemed like his mother called his name. He was too distracted to listen.

"Hm.."

"Did you hear that?" Yes, his mind persisted. "Yes." His parents were always so hectic with anything that involved following rules. He find himself just going along with anything they wished. Like living in this family mansion when their child reaches a limited age of fifteen for example. He bit his inner cheeks.

The silhouette of the red head glisten on the rusty glass, catching his attention. Blood red eyes started him back, a sharp look it held, he found himself enticed by his own orbs. Before... something mildly bizarre seemed to occur. He saw a person, his own shadow, moving with a mind of its own. His mouth left agape, his eyes slightly widen. Brick was left flabbergasted.

He turned sharply with a frantic look on his face towards his mothers side. "Mom," he called her gently. Mrs. Jojo thorn her gaze the second his deep raspy voice reached her ears. "Who's that?" He pointed towards where he last saw the shadow.

"Who's who?" His mother asked back. Now, he was definitely bewildered, and a little freaked out by his mothers response.

"That girl!" He checked again for any signs of it. There was nothing, it was gone in a blink of an eye. Is he hallucinating? No, that's definitely not it. Brick had a sharp mind and was a quick thinker, he was too smart to be fooled by shadows with many colors that caught his eyes.

He furrowed his eyebrows and subconsciously put a finger to his heart-shaped chin, in a way of thinking. He closed his eyes, welcoming the dark that soon emitted, seemingly, forever. He tried opening them again, but all he saw was the same empty void.

What happened?

Then, he saw it again. He saw _her_ again. Right in front of his very eyes. Her beautiful quartz stared into his soul, her face was a blank canvas. Her appearance intimidate him in a way. Of course, this really didn't felt foreign to him. He often received a similar expression from his father.

Then why? Why was he so scared of this girl? Maybe the fact that he saw her in an isolated mansion that only exist for him and his family, and the fact that she disappeared just before he realized she was nothing but an illusion of his imagination.

Or, is it? He wasn't sure. Really, who wouldn't be afraid?

* * *

"Achoo!" The air was cold for a morning breath, even with a warm cozy blanket that was wrapped around her bare shoulder and a hot cup of steaming coco resting comfortably in her grasp. She shivered. Maybe wearing a thin silky nightgown wasn't the best choice. It's finally autumn, after all.

She could've spared her time to properly change. But she just couldn't miss this experience, a habit she developed ever since she was little. Especially gazing through the glass door of her balcony on her new room, she just couldn't miss it.

Sadly, she have to break her tradition of catching the first leaf that landed on her palm and keeping it in a book specified for it only. She wouldn't dare to welcome a new found cold air if she made a choice to open the glass door.

A knock came from her dark oak double door, which she was certain that she locked tightly last night as her parents instructed her to. She should probably get it. "Who is it?" She peeked through her slight gap. It was one of the maids.

"Breakfast's almost ready, Miss Blossom." She said, a light bow for a greeting to a higher rank hierarchy. Her rose colored eyes blinked. "Oh! Of course. Thank you for telling me." The maid bowed again before leaving her to get ready as the red haired girl closed the door behind her.

She let out an exaggerated sigh and began her new morning routine on her new bedroom.

The pink clad girl reached the dining room approximately 10 minutes afterwards with a simpler new schedule of bath, pick a cloth and do her hair. A new record for her, too bad nobody's around to give her a light applause. Upon her arrival, she was met with pearly white smiles and delightful chatter among her small family, consisting of her parents and her only sister.

It felt foreign. The way her father always kept a straight expression, who was now grinning from one of the joke her sister made. That too, her sister never found humor in one of her personality. Perhaps it's a new habit she greatly welcomed. She couldn't said the same with her mother.

"Good morning." She hesitantly greeted. All of their heads turned to her. The usually cold look they pulled on her... was now changed with a warm smile.

"Good morning, Blossom," her mother was the first one to answer her. "How did you sleep? Spontaneous isn't it?!" Her smile twisted glee written all over her face. She couldn't help to find it suspicious. Spontaneous isn't a word to describe such thing, she corrected. How did she slept? Pretty well if you might ask. She didn't know that a more expensive furniture could be such a heavenly experience.

"Y-yeah, sure." She scratched the back of her neck in an awkward attempt, a mindless effort. The red head sat in one of the many chairs their new dining room served and take a look at today's breakfast menu.

It was a marvelous sight. Commoners would drool at the sight of it. If it weren't because her parents strict behavioral rules, she would be clarify as one no doubt.

Bowls of diced fruits as far as the eye can see. Light meat of bacon stacked in their respective plates, along with sunny side up eggs. Various types of bread, categorized by the way they were cooked or jammed, and a small oat meal bowl rested beside her plate. They were free to choose any types of drinks consisting of juice and milk.

Lets just hope the taste is the same as how it looks. She was wrong, it was better.

The girl stared at her half eaten egg as thoughts rushed into her mind, her mouth still filled with chewed food. This new life felt content, until it'll be regretful afterwards, she could tell. The fork tightened in her grasp as she clenched it with all of strength, she gritted her teeth.

* * *

Ruby eyes shot open. The first thing he saw was white ceiling and a beautiful yellow chandelier. Sitting up, the pressure of his body seemed to balanced out the soft material underneath. It was silky, yet it was able to soothe the temperature of a mere living beings body when wrapped inside it. Two pillows supported his fragile skull, taking away tiredness with it.

Did he blacked out? He realized. When? Probably yesterday, or better yet, a few hours ago. He couldn't be asleep for more than 24 hours, at least it depends on whatever things that had caused him to laid unconscious.

A knock was heard from the room's door. He just now realize he was in a red painted bedroom. The furniture nearly consist of polished woods. There was a desk, a mirror, a sliding door that he presumably thought was a way to a closet. Another door to his left, he'll check that out later. And of course, a bed, a big one to say the least.

Who's room is this? He wonders. _Apparently his,_ a small hopeful voice deep inside his mind persuade.

There was another knock, a harder one when it made contact with the hard wooden door. He grunted in a displeasure tone and got up to reach it. "Coming." He called.

It was his mother, holding a small cardboard box in her hand. "Good morning sleepy head," he gazed her with a blank expression, a hard one to read. Maybe he was angry? Who knows. "You know it's not healthy to sleep in all day, even if it's the weekend!" She nagged, ignoring his looks. "Come down for breakfast. Oh, and this is for you." She handed him the item as he willingly receive.

"Okay," she nodded. "Mom, what happened... yesterday?" He asked nonchalantly. His mother shot him a questioning look.

"Did you get amnesia or something? We moved in and unpacked our stuff, remember?" He scratched his head. Her mother's statement puzzled him. He didn't liked it.

"R-really?" He uncharacteristically stammered. Mrs. Jojo shot him another look.

"Yes!" She patted his shoulder, causing her to lean upwards because of his tall posture. "What's up with your head, deary?" She lightly giggled, finding the situation humorous. He popped an annoyed vein.

"Just come downstairs to the dining room when you finish, alright?" He nodded his head, and the middle aged woman left. When she finally disappeared out of sights, he realized he didn't asked the direction of said room. Well, that's just great. Incredible.

"Urgh. What's wrong with me this past day?" He muttered to himself.

After a warm relaxing shower, Brick took note to open the package after he got dressed. A simple red, long-sleeved T-shirt and black jeans would do for a lazy day. Without any more delay, he tore it open with his bare hands. The muscle of his palm didn't even flinch.

A smell of rancid air filled his nose, dusting over what's left of the white carpet floor. He got too excited, prior to a curious mind his intelligent brain have. He'll worry about the mess later.

There's no doubt that all of it was old, like it was stored in the deepest part of your basement, just waiting to be seen again for the sake of memory lane. The sheets of neatly stacked papers was heavily wrinkled, a disgusting stain that he wouldn't bother to smell, was everywhere. The owner was probably a slob. A worn out newspaper, he wasn't sure which time it was due to the lack of unknown date. And a piece of brown fabric, filled with holes and burned marks. He wasn't sure what's the source of the smell. Is it the cloth? Is it the stained paper?

Brick scratched his newly washed up carrot hair. "What is this stuff?"


	2. The Notes Of My Heart

Paper. Check.

Ink. Check.

Evidence.. check.

Pen. Check.

That being said, it's time to write down the investigation. Starting from scratch, hurriedly picking up a sheet of paper. It went a little too fast. The edge of the paper somehow made contact with the bottle, causing a reckless spill. Such wasted ink. Managed to save a few, better be extra careful with this one.

Without any more distraction, the author wrote down.

 _ **To whom it may concern this piece of handwritten letter.**_

 _ **The girl died in 19th June XXXX, the day she was supposed to have her sixteenth birthday. Found in the woods that was located not too far from her humble home. Why am I writing this down? Because they didn't believe me. Fools.**_

 _ **It wasn't an accident. I know it wasn't. I tried to convince them, they were too reckless to hear any of my words. Hierarchy really are troublesome. She was brutally murdered, I was sure of it. My heart couldn't accept the fact, yet my brain said otherwise. Whoever was her killer, wouldn't be easily forgiven, that's a promise I'm willing to keep. To his/her family, children, grandchildren, I would never forgive what they have done to her.**_

 _ **The death truly is gruesome. How could they even explain a missing eyeball that was caused by natural death? that's the question. Because it wasn't natural at all.**_

 _ **What intention do the killer have to have killed such innocent child? I know her, she was nothing more than a pure being. I always ventured out to find how a mind of a psychopath work. It was a fruitless attempt, I knew it all along. They were soulless, with no sense of empathy lingered on their system. I feel almost sorry for them, before, you know, they kill people.**_

 _ **That was such a childish thought, I presume. It wasn't their fault they couldn't feel empathy. It wasn't their fault to be one, to be heartless. Since, it was really just a mental disorder. Then who's fault is it? Who to blame?**_

 _ **Then again, it was not specified that the killer inherited mental illness. It wasn't even specified she was killed or just mainly tripped in a clumsy way. Yeah, like tripping ever killed you, unless there's sharp spikes underneath your fall.**_

 _ **Where was I? I drifted off for a bit. Okay, maybe more than a bit. I'm getting really out of topic.**_

 _ **Furthermore, my intention was to give out a few information regardless of my poor attempt at playing detective.**_

 _ **Na;/': -**_

* * *

A red dry liquid highlighted the blurred out words, while the rest was forcefully ripped apart. Brick cursed under his breath. Damn, he was getting serious too. Way to leave him in a cliffhanger.

"Come on! Seriously?" He physically groaned. The stained paper probably contain said information. It didn't matter to him, though. But hell he was curious. Very.

What is that red stain? It was somehow.. sticky, a mixed of rough paper texture thrown around with a rancid smell to boot. Disgusting. Is it molded syrup? A beverage? Or.. is it blood? That's a bit out of line, actually. Blood would be a bit more of a darker shade. Like his eyes for example. They're the perfect paragon of a blood color.

"Brick! Come down, now!" Her mothers faint high female voice was heard. Brick calculate she was only a few centimeters away.

How long has he been reading this stuff? He checked his wristwatch. It was half past 9. In a few minutes, breakfast would be over. What was left was an afternoon snack. Waffles sounds good right about now. Maybe her mother was kind enough to cook him some? It was his favorite morning meal, after all.

He reluctantly headed to the door, and what he found was, not surprisingly, her mothers angry gaze. Unbeknownst of him, leaving an open box that emitted horrible odor spreading all over his new bedroom. Before he comes back and closed it tightly. But he didn't bring it with him, he'll want to investigate more on later time.

Mrs. Jojo lead him through an eerie corridor, where lines of dark oak doors resides on the black fancy wall with beautiful patterns. The white ceramic was soundproof, that was odd considering it was made out of concrete covered fragile ceramic, and ceramic was supposed to make clicking noises when touched with something hard, usually metal with a blunt force. Maybe because he was wearing nothing but his bare toes.

Strange how the interior of the mansion is more well-kept, almost clean, besides how it looks from the outside. His mother caught him looking around.

"We haven't even cleaned it. I guess it's like a saying of "Never judge a book by it's cover" term," she let out a small laugh. "Your father should apologize for saying awful things about the mansion being a whole mess." A petite smile rested on his lips as he snorted.

"I wouldn't really blame him. It was just like him to do so."

* * *

The tomb was wet from the never-ending rain. It was half drenched in water, since the other half was shielded by his black umbrella. The dirt moist, almost completing the process of turning into mud. Good thing he wore waterproof boots. The cleaning, though, will definitely took a long time.

A flower bouquet rested in his hands, consisting of charming roses, pink and red, with white decorative carnation here and there. Fitting through the gap of his left hand, right beside the neatly and professionally organized bouquet, a binder with a shade of distorted green, a deep forest kind.

The same color in his eyes glassy. A red tint on his nose. He was in a verge of tears, until he heard a raspy voice formally called. "Dad!"

" _Curse you, aunt."_

 _"_ Da- have you been crying?" The voice unknowingly laugh in a very humorous way. This is really humiliating. How could he cry in front of her?! He probably looked so weak.

"Not now my child. I'm mourning." He said in a teasing tone while his mouth held an undefined grin. It was a way of hiding his unwanted feelings, covering it up with a joking voice. He was certain, without ever needing to turn his head in a vertical way, that she find his emotions.. almost amusing. He could almost feel her smirking tiny pink lips pointing to his back.

"Haha. Mom said we're going out to eat."

"Oh?" He looked over his broad muscular shoulder, the young girl wore an oversized raincoat and a small flowery umbrella. "Since when did that women ordered me around?" He joked, good thing the small lady got the bitter humor.

"Since you're married?" He lightly glared at her little emerald eyes, but all she did was gave him a sly grin. Oh, this girl had a sharp tongue indeed.

"Why should I listen to someone who wears girly umbrellas." He retort, and his daughter turned beet red as a fuming tomato. What he learned from her was... that female things somehow offends the little rascal, in a way. Strange how girls her age this days always begs for dolls and make ups, and.. unicorn? Pah! he didn't get it.

"I didn't want it! I was supposed to have the Mickey Mouse one!" She argued. Now this was personal for her, the young lad found this a sensitive topic. Of course, 'daddy' would never stop teasing her after what she did back there.

Someone cleared their throat, he mentally flinch at the sound and turn his head towards a vaguely angry brunette. Repeated, vaguely. The jet black blob ran to her mother as soon as she laid eyes with a twin of sparkling lime green irises.

"Mom! Can we please change this! I hate it." She mentioned the colorful patterned, mocked umbrella. The reason they had bought her that one was because it was made out of an expansive silicon, which in their mind would be a good match for the little rascal. He, nor his wife, knows how the little one managed to get a smug of smeared mud on her clothes everyday, whenever she went outside to play.

"Come on, honey!" He snapped out of his gaze as the rest of his family was already half the way of walking to a small cozy looking diner. He glance back to the empty graveyard, where the flower he bought swayed at the motion of the light push of the wind and rain.

 _"I'm sorry."_

* * *

An old worn out cabinet that he eyed with extra precautions. The details of the woods was very well made, not to mention the beautiful craving they had done on the sides. But that wasn't the thing that caught his ruby eyes. Rather, it was something inside the aging furniture.

Binders. Colorful binders.

There was a plain forest green color, sitting next to it was a more lighter kind, lime. And the next one was violet, adorned with exaggerated pictures of drawn animals. Then two blues, like the greens, a mix of both a dark and light color, not to mention the way you can easily tell the difference between the sky blue binder that was littered with stickers, and the other not so much. Brick began to wonder if they were considering putting a multicolored rainbow one to the collection. Maybe not, because they're probably already dead, so..

"What's that?" His father sternly asked behind him. Brick checked the time on his wristwatch.

 _11.42 AM._ Breakfast was over. What would he do next in this mighty boring day? Besides solving that mysterious box, he'll leave that out until after lunch. Maybe sleep. He was more than willing to do that than anything else combined.

"How should I know." The red head dazed off, finding the conversation with his stubborn father would only lead him to a dead end. He bumped into an unsuspecting table along the way, and heard something came out of his jean pocket. He tried picking it up, only to cut his pointing finger by the sharp edge. A small pool of red liquid emitted from the wound, but he ignored it as he opens up the folded paper.

 _ **There was five binders. All of it contains the evidence needed for investigation. You're lucky they've helped you completed most of the case. Get it, and analyzed the books for safety measures. All you need to do is to connect all of it thoroughly.  
**_

A scrapped paper. When in the world did it get to his pocket? How did the person know there was five binders?

This was all confusing. The suspicious notes, a murder of a strange girl, and a possibility of other investigators? It was hard to cope, but being Brick, he was up for that challenge. Even if this was all delusional or whatever, he'd take the risk of finding out what's behind all of this was. What was the message behind all this?

All the items he received was not fate decided, maybe then after he complied their demands of solving the mystery, he'll take another case of finding the secret messenger. How could they have stalked him to give something that was meant to stay in the past itself? How peculiar. Then again, there was a slight chance they'll show their faces in a blunt way.

He turned back, obligingly picking up all of those rainbow colored binders, a short nickname given. Good thing he didn't catch a glimpse of that hairy old man. And he was sure he didn't spy on him as well. Why would he? It was such a waste of his time, after all. And continued on his destination, the bedroom.

Brick picked out a random binder, ending up with the most childish baby blue one. Guess he should open it.

The inside wasn't much of a surprise. When the juvenile scan through the entire paper filled binder, he found an endless collection of it. Stickers if you haven't caught on. Looks like the owner was either a fan of it or it was some kind of a sick trend that couldn't be bothered to left behind, maybe both. Though, he/she was very careful not to cover up any messages. He was thankful for that.

The very front of the the first page was a picture of a girl, about presumably his age. Some people would look at her and probably call her 'cute' with a posture to match. Her blond hair shone from the effect of the morning sunlight, falling gracefully on her shoulder from her styled curly pigtail hair that was held with two blue ribbon. Her chubby cheeks forming a wholehearted smile with white skin that resembles a porcelain doll. Her eyes was shut close to complete the pose.

Subconsciously, Brick returned the smile. What an odd reaction. A few neatly curved words was written bellow the picture.

 _ **This item belongs to Bubbles S. Please return if lost.**_

 _ **If you don't, then you are a horrible person!**_

* * *

 **As I've said before, still no couple! Please don't hate me because of it. Thanks for the people who followed and reviewed this story, especially faved! I'm talkin' to you Violetbautista09! Where have you been? After reading this chapter, you're free to ask me questions via PM, but asking in reviews are okay too. Reviews are welcome! don't forget to leave suggestion, opinion, prompts, whatever you like as long as it's not flames!**


	3. From Others Perspective

Small feet, hugged with simple blue flats jogged to a seemingly endless road. Her breathing hunched and she was clutching her stomach, barely supporting the spark of immense pain. At this rate, she was sure she'll have a heart attack at a young age.

"Boomer! Wait up!" She said in-between-breath, maintaining a tolerable posture with a woozy head. How come he still looks alive and well even with a lot of more running than she ever did? Maybe because he was a boy? Said boy shifted his head as soon as his name was chanted.

He laugh. How dare he?!

"What's so funny?! Do you think my misery is funny?!" She snapped. Her face would turn red out of anger, but it was redder enough from the running she'd got. The boy slowed down his pace as he was able to catch up with the slow blond turtle.

"Oh come on Bubz. You barely ran 5 blocks!" He replied in a matter of fact. Wait-no! She wouldn't be this exhausted!

The girl stopped to catch her irregular breaths. Putting both arms on her knees to support the invisible weight on her heavy shoulder. She looked around, and sure enough, an imagery of their black painted Victorian styled mansion. It wasn't that close, yet it wasn't very far either, like it was just around the corner behind smaller houses and tall trees.

Boomer merely rest his hands inside his navy blue hoodie jacket.

"Easy for you to say! I'm a girl just so you know, we don't have boys stamina!" Her breaths wasn't controlled, often high pitched voice drifting off to another tone when she said those words. She was hyperventilating, but the so-called-family member didn't even moved an inch from his place.

"Here, I brought your water bottle." He handed her a baby blue glitter-ish plastic bottle from the dark backpack he carried earlier, in which she gulped down effortlessly. Once done, the girl whipped her mouth of any remaining liquid lingering on her cheeks.

"How much farther 'till we're there?" She asked, hopeless.

"We're already here." He pointed to a small building. She mentally face palmed at the question. Letting out another suppressed exhale, darting her eyes around. She found odd gaze, mostly glances. The girl's face turned into distress as her male cousin noticed.

"Don't mind them, Bubz. Lets just focus on what we're here for in the first place." With an approval nod, they started walking to their destination.

The inside was pretty much what they've expected. It was small nonetheless, yet it has a feeling of laidback aura that can caused a desire to slack off at any given time. It's been like this ever since, no wonder they haven't successfully solved any case.

"E-excuse m-me.." the man behind the desk didn't paid them any mind. Instead, he pretends to act like he was busy writing something important. The blue eyed girl could even see the doodle he'd drawn on the polio paper.

"Uh. Sir, we request your service." Boomer repeated her retort with a more annoying tone, yet he still kept the polite and stern demeanor. He finally looked up from his work, or should she say drawing?-merely a second glance.

"What-" he replied rudely, until he got a glimpse of their identical blond strand of hairs and blue irises. His eyes slightly widen. They know that expression. They know what it meant. For the first time, it's actually quite useful.

"Oh it's you!" He stammered at the sight of their emotionless gaze. "W-what can I help you with?" The situation felt like deja vú. But, isn't it just a few mere seconds ago they received a similar response?

"We want to look at old newspapers. Figured that a place who still has it was here since you guys definitely need it for important matters." Boomer emphasized the last two sentences, which the young officer easily understands, by the looks of his face. He spoke in monotone, formerly asking, or more of a command. This was 'serious Boomer' we're talking to.

"And what on earth do you need it for?" He hesitantly asked. Boomer shook his head with a hard glare. The guy shut his mouth.

"It's 'family' business, if you won't mind." Scratching his head at how the ambiguous answer reached his brain, he wasn't sure what to response. So, he only complied, neither thinking of what his boss might say, he'll worry about that later.

"Here you go." He opened a dark room and lit up a dim light bulb. Giant shelf filled with newspapers. Every each cubbies had an engraving of different patterns.

1800, 1700, even 1600? How could that even possible?

"Thank you, sir." Bubz said with a little curvy. The officer nodded and left, closing the door with him. She turned around to see Boomer already began his search and she willingly join. Just as she touched the tip of one of the nearby cubbies, dusts puffed out from the stacked old papers and blew right into her pale face. She coughed out resentful breaths.

"Are you okay?" Boomer asked with concern. She gave him a convincing smile. "I-I'm fine." A nervous laugh came out from her mouth. Boomer, on the other hand, wasn't really convinced.

"Here, I'll look with you." He moved closer towards his unsuspecting cousin. They were standing at a very close distance, the one that invade your private air. She felt weird, somehow. What is this? But aren't they cousin, that something like this was common, right? After all, they're family.

For a moment, accidentally, their hands intertwine. She felt her face heating up. "U-uh.. Bom-"

"-Aha!" Bubz jumped in her place at his conclusional high scream. "Oh, sorry." She hid her face in the midst of her fluffy blue scarf. Boomer was puzzled, but he didn't paid it any mind. It was just Bubz being 'shy Bubz', he thought. The boy grabbed a well worn newspaper from one of the near shelf.

"Here, look!" He opened in wide enough for them both to read.

 **"Suicide Of A 15 Year Old Girl"** they shared bewildered and surprised glance.

 _"For parents with a child reaching adultery age, we've warned you with this demanding message of a dark case that occurred not too long ago. One life forcefully taken away. Don't let this happen to your child too!"_

That was enough for her to read. The false rumors, the wrong prediction, the miscalculated theories, she couldn't stand how they've mocked her. All of their faces says it all, the expression of pity and disgust. Labeled. And they wasn't at fault. Her eyebrows furrowed that it almost formed a straight line.

"I couldn't believe it was all because of this?!" Boomer screamed, Bubz stayed quite.

"Soon.." they looked into each others eyes. A shade of cobalt and sky that mixed together by the same feeling in their heart. It was luck that kept their rage at bay. Although, it was more than enough for their determined soul to rise.

Together they'll stop all of it. They'll be treated normally once and for all. Together..

* * *

"Come on, dad!" The little girl sprint towards the thick forest trees. Said 'dad' was taking his time by walking with a peaceful mood. Who know the forest could be this relaxing? They should come by often.

"You go ahead, I'll be right behind your back incase something comes to eat you." He yelled hard enough for her figure to hear.

"Very funny!" He heard her called back. He smirked.

"There's poop under your shoes!" He teased, which was actually a fact. The little one cried out of distress with a loud undesired 'eww'. He dryly laugh. The black haired man rest his back under the shade of a pine tree, hopefully there's nothing falling down that could be quite hurtful.

He looked around, finding no more intention. There wasn't anything out of the ordinary, forest are forest with trees, bushes, not to mention bugs. And that wild flower add a calming vibe in the cold leaf dew scented air. He subconsciously walked towards it and picked a few of the purple and red one.

"Dad! I found it!" The girl came back, looking a little tired with beading sweats.

"Where?" He curiously asked with high eager.

"There!" She pointed whilst grabbing another hand that she looped under his armpit to easily drag his self conscious mind. She'd led him to a small flower meadow, with a dirt hatch forming a messy circle in the middle of the mild ocean of flowers as far as their green eyes could see.

"Wow! You didn't tell me it was this beautiful!" She was about to ran before he stopped her with one arm.

"It wasn't.. before," the little girl protest, throwing her arms to let her leave. "Guess the pictures was just too old." He sneered.

"Aww Dad! I want to go there!" She cried.

"Not now. This is too important," He replied with a serious face. He looked around. "See that molding log?" The rascal turned to the direction of his pointing finger.

"Yeah, so?" She asked, vaguely clueless of the current situation. The guy popped an annoyed vein. Patient, she's still a growing kid, they say. Bring her with you, they say. It'll be fun, they say. Well, that last one was true, only for the little curios hyperactive girl.

"It's the same one from the picture I showed you." Her mouth shaped an 'o'.

"I forgot the picture," her face innocent. "Could you show it to me again?" She asked with puppy dogs pleading eyes. Sadly, he wasn't one to be fooled by it. Not to mention he'd already thrown it away.

"Too bad. It's gone now." A hand smacked his nose.

* * *

"You've killed him." Green emeralds menacing. Hate was visible, there's no denying it.

"I'm sorry.." was all the thing in his mind that could ever compete with his rapid chest. The thought of facing the enemy was an idiotic decision. Though, he couldn't do much since he'd already lost.

"Don't say that to me!" She screamed, earning nearby peoples attention. "Say that to him! But nooo, he's already dead!" He flinched at her words. She raised a palmed fist, ready to punch the living daylights out of him, even if he's inside another room, until a gentle hand rested on top of it. She fell limp, mostly her hands that had been touched.

She brawl out tears, while enemy just stand there, watching her suffer with a blank face.

"He killed him! He killed my father!" She pointed out with an accusing finger. The gentle hand moved on top of her shoulder, now her entire body stoned, yet she still cried, she couldn't help it either. The hands hugged her from the back, affectionately, leaving fatal reaction.

"That was then, Buttercup. Your father was a great man. I'm sure God repay his kindness." The voice behind her convincing, and she submit to it, turning around to cry more into the voice's hard chest.

Someone cleared their throat, while Buttercup was too busy, the voice that belongs to a boy turned to see her half sister. The weird color in her eyes tells him that she needed her family's attention. He shook the black haired girl and showed her the waiting brunette.

"It's time for the funeral." Her voice small and quick, to the point where the question of what had happened was really that effective. Buttercup wiped her remaining tears, leaving red puffy eyes.

He got up and grab her hands. She was startled at first, before finally committing to embrace it with what's left of her dignity. Her sister walk in front of them, presumably not wanting to ruin their little moment. And together they took off.

* * *

"Rest In Peace, Butch Jojo. A loving husband and parent. His ambition and bravery was a true paragon to those around him. He will be missed by many."


End file.
